“The journey not the arrival matters.” - T. S. Eliot

We rolled in this evening from our trip to Leucadia, a funky surfer town in San Diego's North County, where we visited my sister, her husband and my nephew Brock. He's 15 and spends most of his time when he's not forced to be in school hanging out with his friends fishing, kayaking and playing basketball or soccer. What a life. Just down the hill from one of the most gorgeous beaches in the world, they have a cute little pad with a great patio where most of the non-work living occurs.

The first day my sister and I walked 9 miles on the beach and didn't get to an end. It has a impressive vastness to it. When we were finished we were so hot we jumped into the water. There's something about salt water that's so soothing. Perhaps because being in the ocean is like being in the earth's womb. Or maybe it's like being inside a big margarita.

Another highlight was visiting the home and art studio of Rodney "Rodrigo" McCoubrey, a friend of my sister's. His art--made of recycled materials --is fanciful and meaningful. He turns garbage into beauty. He's a wonderfully quirky guy with incredible amounts of energy. We bought three of his fish pieces.

Back home I got some great news that I'm invited to be a featured reader at the Atlanta Queer Literary Festival in October. I like having a travel plan on the books. Travel is good for the soul: it expands my world, and it also helps me to appreciate home anew.